


Nothing Personal

by stars28



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Caring John Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 05:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 8,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4292070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars28/pseuds/stars28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Half of the time Dean feels like he's about to fly apart at the seams, like it's just too much for him to cope with, being a hunter with his Dad, as well as looking after Sammy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1: Weightless

_"Manage me, I'm a mess_   
_Turn a page, I'm a book_   
_Half unread_

_I wanna be laughed at_   
_Laughed with, just because_

_I wanna feel weightless_   
_And that should be enough…"_   
**\- Weightless, All Time Low.**

* * *

Half of the time Dean feels like he's about to fly apart at the seams, like it's just too much for him to cope with, being a hunter with his Dad, as well as looking after Sammy. Don't get him wrong – he loves his family more than life – but sometimes he just wants to do something that _he_ wants to do. Without Dad ordering him to do it (clean the guns Dean, make the beds Dean, pick Sam up from school Dean, help me plan the hunt Dean), and without his brother pestering him (we can go to the park Dean, pick me up Dean).

When he gets up, Dean has to get Sam to school and then go to his school, unless Dad's said that he want Dean straight back to be at Dad's beck and call. If his Dad wants him to go to a library a state over regardless of the fact that he'll miss a day's worth of school, he will. If Dad wants him to buy groceries with fifty dollars because that's all they have to spare, he will. Dean does these things because he believes in his Dad's cause – hunting the son of a bitch that killed his Mom – but that doesn't stop him from wishing for some free time.

The only free time he gets is when he's in the Impala, driving to or from the motel.

* * *

 _When Dean dreams, he dreams of fire and heat and running. He doesn't have nice dreams, in fact, his dreams could be classed as nightmares. But not_ real _nightmares because he knows that there are worse things out there in the dark._

_It's his knowledge that leads him to only be able to sleep if he had his knife under his pillow. Sam doesn't know about it, nor will he ever. Dad doesn't care, not tonight, not on the anniversary of his Mom's death._

_Dean knows that Dad spends tonight drinking in an effort to forget about the devastation that befell the Winchester family on this night, and he also knows that it doesn't work, not if the way his Dad is cursing is any indication to how he's feeling._

_But he won't say anything, not tonight, not ever. He's reckless yes, but not that reckless._

* * *

When Sam says that he wants to say in this town for a bit longer, that's when their Dad blows up. He yells about it being their job hunt evil things and does Sam _want_ more people to die from the werewolf three states over?

Dean thinks that his brother doesn't want to leave this town because he's made friends at school, which is more than can be said for Dean. He's a loner at school despite his good looks, and that's not being conceited; it's just fact at this point, as much a part of him as his hard-won talent with a shotgun and patience with knife work and complex spells.

Dean doesn't make _friends_ – what's the point? Instead, he hangs around with the outcasts, the ones who don't fit in anywhere, the ones who aren't super-popular and attractive. He knows he could – if he tried – get into the pants of most, if not all, of the cheerleaders, but he doesn't.

* * *


	2. Part 2: Break Your Little Heart

_"Wide awake, my mistake so predictable_   
_You were fake, I was great nothing personal_

_I'm walking, who's laughing now?_   
_(Who's laughing, who's laughing now?)_   
_I'm wasted, wasting time_   
_You talk for hours but you're wasting lines_   
_A pretty face but the chase ain't worth the prize…"_   
**\- Break Your Little Heart, All Time Low.**

* * *

On the werewolf hunt, Dean fucks up. He fucks up big style, and almost causes the death of himself. And he almost doesn't fight back, doesn't care if he dies. If he dies now, it'll be doing something he likes, not loves. He doesn't think he'll ever love hunting.

It goes like this. He's hidden in the bush, waiting for Dad's signal to come out and shoot the werewolf with his gun, with a specially-made silver bullet. But what happens is the werewolf gets his scent, easier that either Dean or his Dad was expecting, and lopes through the spines of the bush, falling onto Dean. He's pushed on to the damp ground, he can feel his t-shirt soaking the water in around his shoulders where the werewolf's paws are pinning him down into the grass, and he looks up at the snarling creature above him and thinks about giving up, about giving in, about letting it kill him. For a spilt second, Dean stares in the murky black eyes of the monster, observing its snarls that echo around the wood, and then his Dad is shooting it in the back, one, two, three times.

The werewolf is suddenly a deadweight on top of him, and Dean struggles to push it to the side so he can get up. Standing on his feet, he's almost afraid to look at his Dad.

"Dean! What the hell? You just laid there!" Dad says, his voice echoing around almost more than the werewolf's snarls.

"I knew you were going to shoot the werewolf Sir." Dean says, the excuse feeling sour on his tongue. He didn't, for a moment he _wanted_ to be annihilated from this world, like the monsters they hunted. It would be better than feeling like _this_ , so empty.

"You didn't! What if I'd been too far away?" His Dad says, looking carefully into Dean's eye, "You'd have died!"

For a millisecond, Dean feels guilty, for putting his Dad through the feeling of thinking that another Winchester was going to die, but then his feelings pass, leaving him empty.

"I'm sorry Sir." He says with no emotion, just cold, hard fact.

* * *

When they get back to the motel where Sam is waiting up for them despite Dean having told him not to, Dean smiles and recounts the werewolf killing. In the (wildly) exaggerated tale he spins for his younger, wide-eyed brother, he makes no mention of how he felt like dying and how he was willing to let a werewolf do the job for him. No mention at all.

He lies and smiles until Sam goes to bed and then he has to face his Dad. Dean silently thinks that maybe this conversation would be easier if his Dad was drunk, seeing double, but he knows that this time at least, Dad isn't going to drink.

"Dean," His Dad begins, "What was that back there?"

"Back where Dad?" Dean says, jokingly, hiding the emptiness he can feel creeping inside him. It feels kind of like ice, except he can't burn it away like they did with the werewolf after Dad had killed it. There's nothing he can do.

Dad sighs heavily, glances over at Sam, who's asleep in the bed furthest from the door on Dad's (and Dean's) orders, and says slowly, like he thinks Dean might not understand what he's saying, like it's in another language, "Back with the werewolf. You stopped fighting it."

Dean thinks to himself that he never actually fought it in the first place, but says anyway, "I'm sorry," with the same lack of conviction he had back in the woods.

"Dean. Tell me."

"It's nothing Dad," Dean says, smiling when he feels like crying, "Can I go to bed now?"

His Dad nods.

Dean can feel Dad's eyes on him as he changes and climbs into bed with Sam. They only have two beds in this motel room, so Dean and Sam have to share. It's alright for now, but when Sam gets older, more aware of what they do, Dean knows without a doubt that he'll want his own space.

* * *

He falls asleep thinking about how it would have felt to be ripped to shreds by the werewolf.

_His dream is different that night. It's not about fire and heat and running. Instead, it's about the werewolf._

_It's on top of him, much like it had been in the wood, except this time Dad doesn't save him, doesn't shoot the werewolf._

_Dean can feel the sharpness of the claws as they dig into his sides, leaving deep gashes that he knows he'll never recover from. He can feel the hotness of the werewolf's breath on his neck just before it bites him, and then the world fades quickly into darkness._


	3. Part 3: Damned If I Do Ya (Damned If I Don't)

_"I fought it for a long time now_  
_While drowning in a river of denial_  
_I washed up, fixed up, picked up all my broken things_  
_'Cause you left me, police tape, chalk line_  
_Tequila shots in the dark scene of the crime_  
_Suburban living with a feeling that I'm giving up…"_  
**\- Damned If I Do Ya (Damned If I Don't), All Time Low.**

* * *

After the werewolf incident, on the next hunt, Dean is left behind to look after Sam. He's sort of disappointed, he kind of wanted to go on another hunt, see if the thing (monster, always monster) Dad was hunting could kill him without any major effort – and he doesn't _know_ why that's such an appealing thought, it just is – but not really surprised. After pulling a stunt like that, he expected to be left behind, and he's glad (why is he glad? He's a hunter, dammit!) to stay behind to look after to his brother.

He just feels empty inside.

* * *

"Dean, are you going to drop me off at school?" Sam asks.

Dean looks up from his pillow to see Sam leaning against his bedroom's dilapidated doorframe. He blinks and saying, "Yeah. Sure. Just give me a minute."

"Hurry up then, or I'm gonna be late."

Before Dean can get out of bed, Sam's gone down the hall. He assumes his brother is going to wait in the kitchen. Now that he has an objective, he can get up, or so he hopes. As Dean gets out of bed, he thinks that the emptiness inside him is getting worse, like a cut that doesn't heal over, like he doesn't fit in his own skin anymore. He doesn't know what to do to make it fit again.

Once he's dressed, he goes to the bathroom and looks in the mirror, trying to see if there was a visible difference between now, feeling empty, and before the werewolf hunt. He couldn't see anything, but there has to be something, because he feels different, like everything is numb and he doesn't care anymore. But he knows he has to put his game face on for Sammy.

"Hey Sam, you ready?" He says as he enters the kitchen, hoping to grab something to eat before his brother drags him out.

Sam stands up, picking up his rucksack, replying, "Yeah, c'mon."

Dean sighs, guess he's not having breakfast yet, and follows Sam out of the kitchen. He closes the door and locks it in one easy movement, walking the short distance to the Impala and sliding comfortably into the driver's seat. He sits there, taking in the innate peace that the Impala provides to him, that she has done since he was little.

"Dean? We gonna go?"

"Oh, right, yeah." Dean says, turning the engine on, putting the car in drive, and peeling out on to the street, into the moderate traffic.

* * *

Knowing that he's not going to school today, after dropping Sam off at his school, Dean goes to the nearest petrol station and fills the Impala up.

Afterwards, he drives aimlessly until he finds a spot near a forest where he parks up and gets out of the Impala. Dean stretches, reaches inside the car to turn the stereo on loud and to wind down the front two windows, and finally he lies on the bonnet, relaxing in the warm sun like a cat or a reptile.

He doesn't know _why_ he feels the way he does, he just does, and that should by all means piss him off. But it doesn't, instead, he doesn't feel anything.

Dean thinks it was the almost death by that werewolf that changed it all. Although, when he thinks about it, it could have occurred long before that. He has a feeling that he'll never know for certain.

* * *

When he goes to pick up Sam, he's nicely suntanned and not hungry, which is strange because he hasn't eaten all day.

They're almost at their falling-down home when Sam says, turning the music down, "Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy?"

"Are you ok?"

Dean gulps and glances at his brother, wanting to keep him in the dark – at least until he's figured out what the fuck is wrong with him and why he's so numb – so he says, "Yeah, course I am. Why d'you ask?"

Sam shrugs as they come to a stop outside their shitty house, "I dunno. You just seemed…off. I suppose."

He gets out of the car, promising himself that he has to get better at hiding how numb he is inside if Sam's noticed.

* * *

_Dean's dream that night is Sam finding out that he wanted the werewolf to kill him, to eradicate him from this world. He can see the tears staining Sam's cheeks and he's sorry, but that doesn't stop him from wanting it._


	4. Part 4: Lost In Stereo

_"And I'm just like cellophane 'cause she sees right through me_   
_I know she's glitter and gold_   
_And that's just the price I pay when I don't even know her name_   
_She's slipping away_

_She works for the weekend, mixtape of her favorite bands_   
_Tearin' up the radio lost in the stereo sound…"_   
**\- Lost In Stereo, All Time Low.**

* * *

When Dad comes back, it's the middle of the night and Dean has to stitch several big gashes upon his arm before Dad falls asleep in the nearest bed to the door. He glances over to check that Sammy hasn't woken up – which he hasn't – and then makes sure the salt lines across the door and all the windows are intact.

His Dad's wounds make him wonder what it was that he'd been hunting.

He lies on the bed next to Sam, and stares at the mucky ceiling, knowing that he's not going to get any sleep.

* * *

He gets up with a fake smile on his face, shaking Sam awake, saying, "Wake up Sammy! Days a'wastin'!"

All Dean receives for his efforts is an unintelligible groan, so he tries again. Second time's a charm because Sam blinks his green-blue eyes open and mumbles, "Time is it?"

Dean glances at the clock with smashed glass propped up against the wall, and replies, "Half six."

"In the morning?" Sam sounds half-asleep, which is, Dean suspects, how he should feel as well, considering he got no sleep last night after Dad got it, but he doesn't. Instead, he feels wide-awake and more than ready for their morning run.

"Yep," Dean says, pulling his ratty old shorts and t-shirt on. He can feel the heat beginning to increase and he isn't even outside yet. He glances over at their Dad, still asleep, and says to Sam, who seemingly hasn't noticed the extra person in their motel room (Dean makes a mental note to do something about Sam's awareness later on), "Also, Dad's back."

"Really?" Sam says, jumping out of bed before Dean grabs him and pulls him back, away from Dad's bed.

"Get dressed and I'll tell you outside." He whispers, nodding towards the door.

Sam nods, getting dressed swiftly as Dean shoves his torn trainers on and grabs two bottles of water from the gently whirring fridge. As they exit the motel room, Dean glances back at their Dad briefly, handing Sam a cool bottle, nudging him.

"How can you say it so nonchalantly?" Sam asks as they begins their run, turning left down the street. There weren't many cars at this time.

"What d'you mean?"

"Oh, you know, 'Dad's back'," Sam explains, his eyes flashing angrily, "Not like he's been gone for almost a month! Or that we had no idea what he was hunting. Apart from that, it's _fine_!"

Sam jogs past Dean, his long legs eating up the tarmac, and Dean doesn't bother to go any faster. Why? To hear more of Sam's tirade on how Dad's a terrible father? He'll pass thanks.

* * *

Dean admits to himself that day, when they're on their way to another hunt – Dad thinks it a couple of ghouls making a mess – that he's not 'right' whatever that means. He knows that it means that he shouldn't want to die during a hunt, probably slowly and painfully. He _shouldn't_ , but it sounds to appealing, kind of like a warm hug, just going into the darkness and never emerging.

"Dean, you ok?" Sam asks, glancing at him from the passenger seat.

"Yeah. 'm fine." Dean says, sparing a hand to turn the music up so it drowned out any more attempts at conversation. He didn't want to talk when he felt like _this_.


	5. Part 5: Stella

_"2 am I'm on a blackout binge again_  
 _You know I don't need sleep_  
 _And I lost my keys,_  
 _But I've got so many friends_  
 _And they keep, keep me coming back for more…"_  
**\- Stella, All Time Low.**

* * *

When they arrive at the (shitty) motel that evening, Dean is instructed to look after Sam while Dad goes out. He isn't stupid, he knows that Dad is going to get drunk at the nearest bar.

As he settles on the bed, switching the TV on, he wonders if being drunk would cure the hole in him. Dean doubts it, but he kind of wants to try it anyway.

* * *

Being drunk only makes him ever more numb than usual. And Dean is sure that his Dad has noticed this time. It was bad enough that Sam had noticed, without Dad as well.

"Hey Dean," Dad says, as Dean stumbles unsteadily to the bed, "What's up with you lately?"

"N-nothing."

Dad raises an eyebrow, "Right, that's why you almost let yourself be killed by a werewolf a month or so back."

The next sentence slips out without Dean's permission, "I dunno what's wrong with me. It's like, if I die, I wouldn't mind."

"W-what?"

"Yeah, I feel numb inside, like I don't have feelings anymore, like I don't _care_ about anything anymore…"

Dean feels his eyes beginning to droop, the alcohol he'd consumed earlier making him want to go to sleep. He doesn't care that he's just told Dad his 'big secret', he wants to sleep.

"Dean," His Dad says seriously, just before Dean falls asleep next to Sam, "We're going to talk about this tomorrow."

* * *

Although Dean doesn't remember his Dad's words, he finds himself outside, sitting on the Impala's hood while his Dad paces, mumbling to himself, for a few minutes.

"Dean." His Dad says, coming to a stop in front of the black car.

"Yes?" is Dean's quick response. He knows that his Dad doesn't like to be kept waiting.

"Do you remember anything from last night?"

Frowning, Dean shakes his head slowly, saying, "No, apart from when I first went out…and I vaguely remember getting back."

"Well, you told me last night that you felt that if you died, you wouldn't mind."

Dean can feel his face drain of blood, his heart stop beating, and he was relatively sure he resembles a statue, sitting on the bonnet with his legs hanging over the grill. He barely blinks when he stutters, "I – no. It's nothing Dad. Honest."

"Why don't I believe you?" His Dad says, sitting down next to Dean on the car's bonnet, "C'mon son, tell me what's the matter."

Dean's eyes flick up briefly to meet his Dad's before focusing on the dirt beneath the Impala's wheels. He knew he didn't have an unlimited time-span in which to explain how he felt; he had to pick Sam up in a couple of hours. But he still didn't really _want_ to explain – he isn't sure what happened, but something had.

"I'm not sure," Dean begins, wishing for the Impala's speakers to be on and for music to be blasting out – it would make this conversation easier, "But I just stopped fightin' the werewolf because I thought it'd be better than feeling so empty all the time. The only time when it goes away is when I'm ridin' in the Impala, with my music blaring. Even then…" He pauses, thinking.

His Dad probes gently, "Even then what?"

"Even then the emptiness is just a thought away." Dean shrugs, irritated at his own inability to explain, "I don't know what's wrong with me! And it's driving me nuts!"

Dad puts a heavy hand on Dean's shoulder, "Son, you'll be ok."

And with the sun heating the bonnet up and his Dad's hand touching him, Dean feels better than he has in a while.

Maybe there is light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, he thinks, stretching back in the warm sun against the windshield as his Dad leaves.


	6. Part 6: Sick Little Games

_"I'm finding me out,_   
_I'm having my doubts,_   
_I'm losing the best of me._

_We're all part of the same, sick little games,_   
_And I need a get-away (get away)_   
_I'm wasting my days, I throw them away,_   
_Losing it all on these sick little games…"_   
**\- Sick Little Games, All Time Low.**

* * *

With his Dad sharing in what's troubling him, Dean feels lighter. It's not enough to make him talk on days where he doesn't feel like it, but it's helpful to have someone to distract Sammy, someone to take his brother in their car so he doesn't suspect how Dean's feeling. It's enough to keep him going. It does help, and on the nights where he can't help but think that he should've died when that werewolf got him on his back, it should've torn his throat out and left him to bleed to death, Dean has someone to talk to on the phone while sitting outside, staring at the millions of stars twinkling above him, quietly so Sammy doesn't hear. He doesn't think he could manage if Sam found out how fucked up he is.

* * *

Dean's shaking as he dials his Dad's number, shaking from the nothingness he can feel in his bones, hoping desperately that he'll pick up. He's in the bathroom of their latest motel room. He didn't have time to get outside and besides, it's raining heavily out, so he didn't want to anyway.

He feels like he's on the verge of doing something that he'll regret.

After a few useless dial tones, Dean gets his Dad's voicemail. He leaves a message, but doesn't really think that his Dad will respond until he's on his way back.

"H-hey Dad, it's Dean. Nothing's wrong exactly, but I've been feeling like my skin doesn't fit me properly," Dean laughs, lowly and shakily, "Y'know how I get. That's all really. Bye." He hangs up and puts his mobile on the tiled floor next to him. Now, on top of the empty inside, he also feels useless for being unable to deal with himself like any other teenager would. Goddammit.

He's eyeing the razor that his Dad left behind. Before he knows what he's doing, it's in his hands and he turning it over and over, watching the light flash over it. It's mesmerising. He's dragging it across his arms, near the elbow, feeling and seeing the red-hot blood gush out of the self-made cut. He's not dead, he's very much alive. He can _feel_ things, even if it hurts.

Dean goes to bed after washing the razor thoroughly, mopping up the blood that had dripping on the tiles, leaving a second short voicemail for his Dad, and slipping on a long-sleeved t-shirt.

"Dad, I did something stupid, but I could feel it, and I know I'm gonna regret it tomorrow. I can feel things Dad."

* * *

Dean wakes up the next morning to find his Dad looking at him. He blinked sluggishly. When had that happened?

"Dean. I got your message."

"First or second?" Dean asks, sitting up in the early morning sun.

"Both." Dad replied, looking at him hard, "Let me see."

"See what?"

"Don't act as if I'm stupid Dean, let me have a look at the cuts you undoubtedly put on yourself."

Dean looks down, ashamed of himself, but rolls the left arm of his t-shirt up so his Dad can have a look.

"Sorry Dad." He mumbles.

"No Dean, this isn't your fault. I guess I should've recognised how bad this thing of yours is," Dad replied, voice hard with no room for argument, "Wake Sam up. We're goin' to Bobby's."

"Yes Dad."


	7. Part 7: Hello Brooklyn

_"This city is so pretty_  
 _Under moonlit skies we'll be hanging like a cigarette_  
 _So stunning start runnin'…"_  
**\- Hello Brooklyn, All Time Low.**

* * *

They get to Bobby's at midnight the next night, where Bobby is waiting on the porch. Dean assumes that his Dad had called on ahead to warn Bobby of their coming. It makes sense; the last time they'd shown up unannounced, Bobby had almost shot them. Though, Dean thinks, he doesn't know _why_ that happened – it just had.

"Hey Bobby." Dean says, smiling weakly at the man he's always considered an uncle to him and Sam. He's pleased they're at Bobby's, despite the still aching cuts on his arms, and the feeling of uncertainness that's settled low in his stomach, making him feel kind of sick. But he doesn't want Sam to know how he's feeling, so he pastes on a smile.

"Hey Dean," Bobby replies, reaching up to adjust his hat, "How are you?"

To Dean, the question is obviously loaded with intent. To his brother, it is simply a question. Dean wishes that Sammy could stay in the dark about his…feelings, he supposes. But he has a feeling that Sam already suspects, and that thought scares him. What would he do if he isn't the 'invincible' big brother? Just the thought makes him shake.

Shit. Bobby's looking at him, as well as Dad. Dean is suddenly aware that he's taken too long to answer the (simple) question. So he glances up at the older man, and mumbles, "I'm fine."

* * *

Even though they are there for his benefit, Dean doesn't feel any better. In fact, one day, he spends the entire day in bed, just feeling so _fucking_ empty inside. He can't find the energy to get up and put on a smile for Sam. The one time he gets up, except to pee because that's a basic need, is to go to the bathroom. He needs to feel something so badly, even if it is only pain.

Just as Dean makes the first cut of the day, his Dad walks in and looks at him.

"Oh Dean," Dad says softly, "You've done it again."

His Dad's tone of voice causes Dean to put the razor down – he doesn't even know where he'd found it, he just _had_ – and look at his Dad. Dean feels the blood drip, drip, drip off his arm, and landing on the tiled floor. He can't say anything, he just feels the shame (he can feel things) settle low in his stomach. Vaguely, distantly, Dean feels his Dad push him down so he's sitting on the floor. The next thing he feels, a few moments later, is his Dad carefully cleaning his cut and bandaging it up.

"I, I didn't mean to Dad," Dean stuttered, still refusing to look at his Dad, "It just… _happened_. I didn't mean to cut. I just felt like I couldn't feel _anything_ , so I had to see if I was still alive. And I am, I can feel pain, so I know I am."

His Dad rubs at his back as he helps Dean up off the floor and into the bedroom. That simple motion makes Dean feel a little better.

Sam appears at the doorway just as Dean is sliding under the covers. Rubbing his eyes, not fully awake, Sam asks, "Dad, what's happening?"

"Nothing son, go to bed." Dad says as he tucks Dean in, and Sam does, disappearing from the doorway.

"Dad." Dean says as his Dad goes to the door. He's almost whimpering, and he's ashamed of his obvious display of weakness, but he can't stop it.

His Dad pauses at the doorway, turning towards Dean's bed, "Yes Dean?"

"I don't want to feel like this anymore."

"I know son, we'll get through this."


	8. Part 8: Walls

_"In retrospect, I wouldn't do it again._   
_Stop talking shit to every one of your friends_   
_I'm not the same boy you knew back then..."_   
**\- Walls, All Time Low.**

* * *

It's May, and Dean can tell, even if his Dad cares about him, that three months with Bobby is getting too much, that his Dad's getting jittery, staying in one place for so long. That's why Dean suggests that night, as they sip on beers on Bobby's front porch – it's a better day for Dean, he's not fully _better_ as such, but he feels better than he has in a long while – that he's ok to go hunting again.

His Dad looks at him sideways, like he's not sure about that statement. Lowly, as he takes a sip of his quickly warming beer, Dad asks, "Are you sure?"

Dean sees the barely concealed hope in his Dad's brown eyes, which is enough for him to smile (and doesn't that feel less faked than usual?) and reply, easily, slowly, like he's meant to say it, "Yeah Dad, I'm sure."

* * *

By the time they are packed and ready for off, Dean is…not happy exactly, more satisfied to be honest, to be behind the Impala's wheel. She's like she always is: ready to go in whatever direction Dean points her in, along tarmac, dirt, and asphalt roads.

Bobby's leaning through passenger window, looking hard at Dean, who's tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, "Boy, you sure you'll be ok?"

"Yeah Bobby, I always am." That doesn't feel like such a lie as it did a few months ago. Dean is glad because that means he's fucking getting better.

There's a pause in which Dean can hear Sam getting into their Dad's truck, and then Bobby says quietly, "You need anything Dean, you just call or come by. You know that."

Dean's face stretches into a smile, and he says, as Dad's truck begins to move off Bobby's dirt and gravel driveway, "I know that Bobby. See ya around."

"See ya boy."

Dean puts the Impala into drive and follows Dad down the driveway, into the real world again. He feels better with Led Zeppelin's 'When The Levee Breaks' blasting out of the car's stereo system.

This is probably the reason, Dean thinks, signally to turn left, that Sammy chose to travel with Dad.

He smiles anyway, because Led Zeppelin rocks.

* * *

That night, when they are miles and miles away from Sioux Falls, Dad mentions a hunt relating to a string of werewolf attacks in nearby state, and suddenly Dean's vision has gone from the god-awful maroon flowery _(flowery!)_ wallpaper to being pinned under the werewolf from months ago. He's not struggling like he knows logically that he should be, instead he's dead-still as he lets – fucking _welcomes_ – the werewolf snarling and clawing at him.

"Dean."

"Dean!"

"Dean!"

"DEAN!"

_"DEAN!"_

At the last repetition of his name, Dean blinks and the werewolf is gone. He's on the motel floor and Sam is above him. He thinks sluggishly that the werewolf hunt is too dangerous for his younger brother to be on. Why is Sam here?

"Sammy," He mumbles, tongue feeling too heavy in his mouth, "Why are you 'ere? 'erewolf too dangerous."

As Sam looks up at Dad, Dean wonders why Sammy looks so scared. What is there to be scared of?

"Son, you need to rest." Dad says, bending over and lifting Dean up easily. He walks the few steps to a bed and gently deposits Dean onto it.

"Dad, what's wrong with him?" Sam asks, sounding frightened to Dean's ears.

As Dean slips away into the welcoming darkness, he vaguely hears his Dad begin to explain…something.

* * *

_Dean's dreaming, logically he fucking knows that, but that doesn't stop the sheer terror that has taken up firm settlement in his stomach at the sight of huge werewolf staring at him with pitch-black eyes._

_If there was another, darker colour that black, Dean would describe the werewolf's eyes as that colour, but right now, he can't find in him to care._

_"Dad! Sammy!" He whimpers as the werewolf's sharp claws sink, almost gracefully, into his stomach. He sees blood pore out of the wound._

_He knows that it's deadly, that he's not going to survive this fight, and that he'll never see Sammy or Dad again._

_"Sammy! Dad!"_

* * *

"Dean, Dean, Dean."

Dean's eyes open and he's half sitting up in the bed before he processes that it's his Dad saying his name. When he does, he feels tears well in his eyes. He bites his lip hard to prevent them rolling down his cheeks.

"Dad, I, I, I..." He all but whimpers in the darkness of their motel room. Sammy's asleep in the bed next to him; Dean can't wake his brother, so he does not fucking cry. He doesn't, until the tears roll down his cheeks anyway, unaffected by his mental determination not to cry. It's annoying and embarrassing, crying in front of his Dad.

"Dean… Come 'ere." Dad says quietly, almost sounding _sympathetic_ , and opening his arms, welcomingly. It reminds Dean of when he was younger, in the years after the fire, when he'd had nightmares about the flames and running, and his Dad would try his best to comfort him, despite his own grief.

Once Dean's in his Dad's arms, the waterworks really start, and they don't stop for a good twenty minutes. Once he's done, Dean retreats from his Dad's safe arms, hating the fact that he's had to have comfort, but glad of it at the same time.

He smiles weakly at his Dad and they go back to sleep.

The next day, Dean knows without a doubt that Dad has explained fully about the emptiness inside of him to his brother. He can see it in the way that Sammy looks at him when he thinks Dean isn't paying attention.

Dean knows that Sam was bound to find out at some point, but that doesn't stop him from hating it with a passion he usually only reserves for witches.


	9. Part 9: Too Much

_"What a waste, where did the time go?_  
 _Where did our minds go? I don't know._  
 _What's this place? Where did our home go?_  
 _We won't know, I don't know…"_  
**\- Too Much, All Time Low.**

* * *

When Dean goes to start packing up for the werewolf hunt, his Dad stops him when he reaches the Impala.

Blinking, Dean asks, "Dad? What are you doing?"

His Dad sighs and replies, "Dean…I don't think you're mentally ready for another werewolf hunt yet."

"What?! That was over three months ago," Dean laughs, aware that it sounds hollow to his ears, "I'm fine."

Dad puts a heavy hand on Dean's shoulder, saying, "No Dean, you're not. If this was any other type of hunt, you know I'd agree with you in a heartbeat, but a werewolf…no."

Tears blur Dean's vision for a split-second because _his Dad doesn't trust him to not get himself killed by a werewolf_ , and then he blinks, nodding along like he agrees, when in fact it just forcefully reminds him that he's _useless_.

"Ok Dad. Be carefully." He says instead of crying.

After watching Dad's truck peel out of the car park, its tires squealing, Dean goes back into the motel room where Sam looks at him in obvious surprise.

"Dean?" Sam says, eyes wide in surprise, "Why are you here? I thought you were going with Dad."

Dean shrugs like he couldn't care less, "So did I Sammy, so did I."

* * *

The one good thing about Sam knowing about his emptiness is that his brother knows when to leave Dean alone. For example now, with Dad on his way to a (potentially deadly) hunt by himself, the last thing Dean wants to do is talk. Instead distracting Sam from his homework by encouraging him into a discussion on the latest thing Dad taught them, Dean's younger brother is more willing to let Dean just think.

And that's exactly what he's doing, lying on 'his' bed (it's really Dad's) and staring at the mucky ceiling. Dean wonders what could've made that dark stain near the left corner of the room, and then quickly decides that he probably _(definitely)_ doesn't want to know. Not if he wants to sleep to come easy tonight.

Though he knows that he won't be getting a decent amount of blissful sleep tonight, not with Dad out there fighting a werewolf.

* * *

It has gone four o'clock in the morning and Dean hasn't got a wink of sleep. No dreams (nightmares) for him tonight. He can't decide if he's grateful or not for the reprieve.

The main thing is that Dad's just come home, running on pure adrenaline and the whiskey Dean knows he keeps in the glovebox of the truck for moments like these, sporting a few new cuts.

"Hey Dad," Dean says quietly, knowing that if he speaks any louder, he'll wake Sam up, "You get the son of a bitch?"

Dad grunts, "Course I did Dean, what d'you think I'm bleedin' for? Get me fixed up would ya?"

"Yes Sir." Dean replies instinctively, like it's ingrained into his very bones, which he supposes, as he gets the huge first aid box out of the bathroom and goes back to his Dad, it is.

* * *

The next day, and they're headed to another town where a ghost has been reported. It's their job to determine if this is the real deal, and Dean's happier, since his Dad's said that he can go on this hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I go away for two, almost three weeks on Wednesday, and I won't be taking my laptop, so you can't expect anymore of this fic while I'm gone.


	10. Part 10: Keep The Change, You Filthy Animal

_"Are you having trouble finding sleep at night,_  
_Or does your lack of conscience tell you every-thing's alright,_  
_I trust your good intentions, that you're watching over friends,_  
_But you must think that I'm crazy, if I don't see through that grin..."_  
**\- Keep The Change, You Filthy Animal.**

* * *

Dean is thankful that he's been allowed on this hunt. Even if it is the standard ghost haunting, to Dean it means so much _more_. The basic fact that is bouncing around his brain is: his Dad trusts him again. Enough for him to back him up. It makes him smile, which in turn makes Sam smile, and Dean is _glad_ that he's still able to make his younger brother smile.

It makes him feel less useless.

* * *

When the time comes for Dean to hold the shotgun filled with salt shells while his Dad digs the bones up, he is eerily calm. He feels kind of like he did when he was looking into the werewolf's eyes. He can feel the slight breath of wind on his left cheek as he fires the gun, again and again, protecting his Dad from being tossed clear across the graveyard, as the ghost undoubtedly wants to. Dean has seen it happen before now, and it never ends well. For him or Dad.

"Oh you." The ghost says, titling its top hat at Dean.

"What bitch?" Dean replies, hoisting the gun at his side, his finger on the trigger ready to fire at a moment's notice if the conversation tactic fails. He isn't in the habit of talking to the monster of the week, but seeing as it will keep the ghost's attention on him rather than Dad, Dean will do it. He would do anything for his Dad.

"You…" The ghost says, walking towards Dean, rustling leaves as it does so, "Are empty inside."

Dean's gut freezes even as his finger squeezes the trigger on instinct. The ghost disappears with yet another scream; they were getting tiresome of hearing. He thinks that the ghost was lying, but he can feel the iciness in his gut, telling him without a doubt that the ghost was right and will always be.

* * *

They are in Dad's truck on the back to their motel where Sammy is waiting when Dad asks him what the ghost was saying to him.

"Oh you know," Dean lies, the words feeling heavy on his tongue, like he has to force them out, "The usual crap."

"Ah." His Dad nods, smiles and continues to focus on the road ahead.

* * *

_That night, Dean's dream was about the ghost killing him, but he refuses, moaning that his Dad and brother need him. They'll murder each other if they were left alone._

* * *

The next morning, Dean wakes with the sun shining into the room, and goes outside to admire the sunrise. He runs a hand over the scars on both of his arms, a good amount of them from hunting, but some of them – this one there and that one – are from his own hand.

He knows that he should feel ashamed – more ashamed than when he did them – but he doesn't.

Dean wears them like medals showing the world that he has suffered, but that he has come through alright.


	11. Part 11: A Party Song (The Walk of Shame)

_"Mixed drinks, mixed feelings of elation,_  
 _I should have known it was a one night invitation…"_  
**\- A Party Song (The Walk Of Shame), All Time Low.**

* * *

Over the next few months, Dean is allowed to have more involvement in the hunts his Dad takes them on. His Dad still refuses to let him on another werewolf hunt, which he can understand, though he's not necessarily happy about it.

* * *

One night, Dean finds himself in a bar, with a girl that had a firm grip on his hip. It hurts, but he smiles and flirts back regardless. It's not like he can tell her that her hand is in the exact place where a Black Dog had bit him on his Dad's last hunt. That'd just scare her, and he feels like getting laid tonight.

It's been a long time since he's felt like that, so he's going to take advantage of that.

* * *

The next morning, Dean regrets nothing. He feels relaxed and comfortable in his own skin, but as he sneaks out of the girl's bedroom, he knows that the feeling is going to go. Probably sooner rather than later, if he's being honest with himself.

He walks out of the door after dressing silently inside of the house. He absentmindedly thinks that the girl should be more worried about how easy it was for him to exit her house. But then again, that isn't his worry.

* * *

When he gets back to the motel where the Winchester's are staying for the duration of the hunt – which they finished up yesterday evening – Dean finds that Sam is waiting outside of the motel room.

"Hey Sammy," Dean says, smiling, "Why are you outside?"

Dean's brother looks up from the ground, saying, "Dad wants to talk to you. Alone. Dunno what for."

"Great." Dean rolls his eyes briefly before heading into the motel room to face his Dad.

As he enters, his Dad's deep voice comes from across the room, "Dean."

"Dad," He replies, curious now, "What d'you want?"

His Dad launches into the explanation with no preamble, "I think that you are well enough now to handle a hunt by yourself. I've got one lined up for you in North Carolina."

Dean can feel the first trickles of excitement emerge in his stomach, overwhelming the slight anxiety he has over being away from his family, and he asks, eagerly, "What is it?"

"It's a demon." Dad says, "There's lightning storms, cattle mutilations, and – most importantly – people have been reported smelling sulfur all over the place. Think you're up to it?"

Dean nods enthusiastically, "Yeah. Definitely."

"That's good, because I've found me and Sam a hunt in Washington."

"Washington? As in the state?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Dean is in the Impala, the stereo system is blaring Led Zeppelin's 'Over The Hills And Far Away', and his family are behind him, still in the motel. It feels strange, to know that Sam and Dad won't be following in Dad's truck, to know that this hunt is all his, and no one has his back if it goes wrong.

Dean is unsure if this is a good idea or not, but he does know one thing, and that is that he's glad that the hunt isn't a werewolf. He seriously believes that if it _was_ a werewolf, then he wouldn't be able to deal with it. He'd have a flashback, and die. (And that doesn't sound as nice as it did before; does this mean he's recovering?)


	12. Part 12: Therapy

_"My lungs gave out_  
_As I faced the crowd._  
_I think that keeping this up could be dangerous._  
_I'm flesh and bone,_  
_I'm a rolling stone…"_  
**\- Therapy, All Time Low.**

* * *

When Dean interviews witnesses, he is half listening to what they have to say, and half wondering what the hunt that Dad and Sam have gone on is. He doesn't think that it could be anything majorly dangerous, because Dad has taken Sam with him. However, he also knows that (sadly) sometimes Dad doesn't take account how perilous hunts can get, even with extensive planning. Dean can only hope that when he goes to meet them in a week and a half, his family is in one whole piece.

As he leaves the final witness's house, collecting his coat from the coat rack these people have by their blue front door, Dean knows inherently that Sam and Dad cannot get away from a hunt completely unscathed. That would be impossible.

Dean knows that he isn't going to have a successful hunt without a few scrapes and bruises; it's just the life of a hunter.

* * *

Dean stumbles as the demon attempts to capture him for its own means. He doesn't want to find out what those plans are, so he waits silently for the opportune moment to strike. Seconds later, he's thrusting the knife into the side of the demon's meat-suit. The black smoke disappears from the room for a brief moment, and then the demon's back, slamming the door open as yet another human is made a slave to the demon's every wish.

He groans as the demon, upon taking a new meat-suit, proceeds to try and grab him. Dean rolls out of the way, letting the demon's own momentum carry it forward into the Devil's Trap he'd painted earlier. It begins to yell and plead for him to let it go. Which isn't going to happen.

Shaking his head at the stupidity of the demon, Dean begins to say the exorcism.

_"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,_   
_omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii,_   
_omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica._   
_Ergo, draco maledicte._   
_Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire,_   
_te rogamus, audi nos."_

"Please, please! Noooo…" The demon yells as the black smoke exits his mouth and the human being drops to the floor.

Dean swipes a hand across his forehead, ridding his skin of the light sheen of sweat that had occurred during the struggle with the demon's first meat-suit. He just wants to get out of the abandoned warehouse, but he thinks that he should check on the human's that are waking up, groaning quietly.

* * *

After dropping the two victims – because that's what they are – at the nearest hospital, Dean stops by his motel room, picks his things up, and leaves via the single road out of town. It's not like anyone is here to disagree with his decision of driving at night.

* * *

When he eventually decides that he is, in fact, tired, Dean pulls off the highway at the next available exit and finds a motel. He refuses to think about how his Dad and Sammy are doing, because that will mean he will end up staying up all night, worrying about them. He needs sleep, not worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one part to go, and then this story is finished. That fact makes me sad. :(


	13. Part 13: Poison

_"You drank the poison and I, I let you in_  
 _Would you trade that heart of gold for a minute in my skin?"_  
**\- Poison, All Time Low.**

* * *

Dean wakes up the next morning to the sun shining in through the window. In his eagerness to get some sleep last night, he'd forgotten to close the curtains. He now regrets that decision, because he feels like he could do with another hour's sleep at least. But, as he's already awake, he figures that he could get up, have a shower, get some breakfast, and maybe wash the Impala.

* * *

After devouring a bacon and sausage sandwich from the nearby diner – he hadn't realised how hungry he'd been – Dean begins to wash his car. He thinks it wouldn't be good for him to meet with Dad and Sammy when she's in the state she currently is.

As Dean washes, the soap suds lift all traces of mud off the alloys, the bonnet, and the front and rear bumpers. It gives him time to think about how he's getting better. He hasn't had the urge to cut in a couple of months, nor has he felt like his skin doesn't fit him quite right.

By the time he's finished, it's almost lunchtime, and the Impala is gleaming in the sunlight. Dean smiles as he rolls his shoulders back, feeling the welcoming 'crack' of his shoulders. He drops the soapy sponge in the bucket, the water sloshing around as he does so.

He's proud of himself. Without a doubt, he'd rather clean the Impala that feel like he isn't good enough.

* * *

Dean is driving when his phone goes off from where it's sat on the passenger seat. He fumbles for it without taking his eyes off the road ahead.

"Hello?" He says into the mobile that he's now clamped between his ear and shoulder so he can turn his music down, enabling him to fully focus on whoever it is that's calling him.

_"Dean?"_

"Dad, what's up?"

_"Dean, how'd your hunt go?"_ His Dad asks.

Dean almost nods before remembering that Dad can't see him. Instead, he replies with, "Went well Dad, demon's in Hell now. How'd yours go?"

_"Well, Sam really helped with the research side of things."_ Dad says, _"We're in a motel just outside of Tacoma."_

"I'll meet you there."

_"Ok son, I'll see you in a three days then."_

"Yeah, bye."

After he's hanged up, Dean turns the music back up, and continues to drive.

* * *

Two days later, and he's pulling into the motel parking lot where his Dad and Sam are staying. Dean expects that they'll be moving once his Dad's realised that he's arrived.

"Hey guys." Dean says, as he enters their motel room, stepping over the customary line of salt across the doorway. Sam had texted him earlier the room number.

"Dean!" Sam yells, seconds before abandoning his work to launch himself at his older brother.

Dean grins, "Hey Sammy. It's good to see you."

Sam lets go and steps back as their Dad stands up, walking over to Dean. Dad puts a heavy hand on Dean's shoulder, and squeezes gently, smiling broadly.

"You did good son." His Dad says.

"Thanks." Dean replies, and thinks that this is what it is like to recover. He knows that the feelings will come back, but he feels that he will be able to fight it with his brother and Dad by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of 'Nothing Personal'! I really enjoyed writing Dean's messed up head - far more than I should probably.
> 
> Kudos & comments are really appricated!!


End file.
